


Black Velvet

by NeverSatisfiedGirl (Kalli_Ravenne)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belly Dancing, Between Seasons/Series, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Other, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalli_Ravenne/pseuds/NeverSatisfiedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His gaze set fire to your blood, made the room feel like you were breathing under water. </p>
<p>So you danced for him. Only him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for Bev’s Song Challenge on Tumblr; it was a lot of fun and Bev is awesome. The song I chose for the challenge is Black Velvet by Alannah Myles. Also, this happens to be my first-ever SPN fanfic, so I apologize in advance if it sucks. I kept it simple with this one - kinda dipping a toe in the water. 
> 
> Also can be found here: http://neversatisfiedgirl.tumblr.com/post/149306129511/black-velvet
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ^_^ 

If it wasn’t the heat that got you, it was the swimming-pool humidity. And that’s being generous. Your grandma’s phrase of ‘thick as molasses mixed with horse shit’ wasn’t far from the truth either. Luckily for you, the air conditioner is steering the dance studio far away from the hell-fire that is a typical Memphis summer.  


And you had the place all to yourself. 

The scimitar you had been getting acquainted with - a rustic but beautiful Egyptian piece - was a far cry from the awkward plastic sword you practiced with for weeks. More weight, better detail, and an actual blade. Okay, so it was decorative rather than functional. Still, it made you feel like kind of a badass. A sexy, unattainable badass. 

Middle Eastern dance, especially in the goddess style, was something you didn’t know you had a talent for until you tried it. But the moment that your class teacher broke down a complex and beautiful sequence to represent the deity Isis, you were immediately hooked. 

Not that you instantly leapt from quiet student to dancing siren with hips that could cast spells on everyone in your orbit. You still don’t like people enough to let them in that close. 

That also doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy how intoxicating it is. The power, the ecstasy, the sensuality of shimmying and swaying to music was addictive. But most of all, it was the feeling of being comfortable in your skin and taking control of your agency that you loved. Having the freedom of mind to choose who could share your personal space, even for a moment - now _that_ was a rush. One that you liked to indulge in two nights a week at an off-the-beaten-path dance hall outside the city limits known to a few as The Cage, amid a dark sea of nameless faces and writhing bodies enslaved by the rhythm. You had been approached more than once because it was apparently unbecoming for a woman to be out on her own just to dance. But after a night where a man got a little rough with you… well, let’s say that no one else has troubled you since. 

Just as it was last night and each night before. But last night wasn’t really like the others, was it? 

Not after you saw _him_. 

The man with the black eyes. At least, you thought they were at first. 

At second glance, they were like new spring grass. Or absinthe. 

You let your mind drift back to him, to last night, hips absently winding slow and hands wielding the scimitar with steady strokes.

Tall, dark, and devilishly handsome, the man was obviously sculpted by a very generous deity: dirty blonde hair, strong jawline, lips like the sweetest sin but a smile like a mischievous child who could solemnly swear he was up to no good. And you knew that you wouldn’t mind joining him. 

You decided that bow-legs had never looked so good. 

And he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

But because you’ve never been an easy catch, you took yours off of him. After another shameless once-over, of course. 

You returned to your dance, but let your imagination wander back to the beautiful stranger at the bar. His gaze set fire to your blood, made the room feel like you were breathing under water. 

So you danced for him. Only him. 

With the seductive wiles of Inanna, your body rolled and rocked, and rose and fell as cresting waves to his dark moon. You were already flushed and feverish, and he hadn’t even - 

The touch of his hand on your waist said that you spoke too soon. You didn’t know what feverish was yet. But his body seemed more than willing to teach you. 

_**The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true…** _

His lips at your ear: “You don’t strike me as the teasing type.”

You turned to him and shot back, miraculously keeping your wits: “You don’t strike me as the type that enjoys being teased.” 

Those eyes. Definitely absinthe, and twice as intoxicating. 

That wicked smirk of his shifted to that boyish smile. That mouth alone was some kind of delicious blasphemy. 

He pulled you in close. No malice, but oh so much promise when you felt the extent of his interest pressed against you. “You’d be right. So what’ll it take to make this dance a bit more private?”

You were quivering inside as those hands rode the curve of your hips with slow, expert precision while you moved against him. Feeling especially bold, you answer in his ear, “Just the name that you’re hoping I’ll be screaming later on.”

_**Always wanting more, he’d leave you longing for…** _

The growl you heard turned the quivers into quakes, and the sharp nip at your earlobe had you on the brink of unraveling. 

Dean, he said his name was. 

You were ready to call him anything he wanted.

**_Black velvet and that little boy’s smile…_ **

Eyes locked as the lights flashed around you. And you could swear that those absinthe-green eyes of his had gone dark again as that wicked smile graced his lips.

But you weren’t terrified at all. You knew you should have been, knowing what he was.

You knew he was a demon, just as the rumors said.

You didn’t care. He would never hurt you.

At least, not unless you asked.

_**Black velvet with that slow southern style…** _

You’re jolted out of your reverie by a hand gripping your wrist.

It’s him. And he looks quite amused as he slips the scimitar you’d been handling from your grasp.

“Dancing for me again, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t know I had an audience this time,” you shoot back. You didn’t know that you’d been dancing the whole time you were thinking about him, so lost you were to the memory. But you weren’t ashamed, either. “Besides, I didn’t peg you for the type to do encores.”

He shrugs, giving you that. “Yeah, but last night was so much fun I wanted a repeat performance.” 

“Is that right?”

“Damn straight. But…” He closes in slowly, backing you against the wall. His eyes were black again.

_**A new religion that’ll bring ya to your knees…** _

“I’m thinkin’ of a change in venue.” 

Before you can reply, Dean claims your mouth in an incendiary kiss. The taste of metal and smoke and whiskey fills you, rekindling the blaze from the previous night as if it never stopped.

And as his hand slips under your shirt, you decide that you didn’t care if someone were to walk in on your - *ahem* - _entanglement_.

This is the kind of sin you’d gladly go to hell for. 

**_Black velvet, if you please._ **


End file.
